The Farmer who loved me

HELENA

Standing in front of my wardrobe mirror, I stared at myself through it. My black, medium—length, curly hair was tied up on top of my head in a tight bun, as I'd just gotten out of the shower, a pastel yellow robe partially covered my arms and reached just past my knees.

Still facing me, I took the fingers of both hands into the knot that kept the furry piece closed, covering my already dry body… I undid the two knots and gradually pulled the two sides in opposite directions, revealing the front of my body.

Since my surgery, I follow this routine, I take a shower, dry and moisturize my body, put on my robe, so I go in front of the mirror and look at myself through it, more precisely at the cut, changed areas, an unrecognizable part of me…

I tried to see myself in the same way as before, with the same security, love, self—esteem… but how could I do it, when I felt so strange in my own body? I couldn't see anything other than the scars, the way my breasts look rounder and higher... according to the surgeons, they had followed my natural risk model, so that my adaptation was easy and maybe they even had, but the scars and everything related to they made me see many things there, except my breasts from before, consequently less me.

I sigh deeply, gradually drag my fingertips, at first through the robe, eventually reaching the lower area of ​​my stomach, I shiver slightly, from the clash between the warm skin of my belly and the cold one of my fingertips, I sigh deeply, dragging —the more, gradually, reaching the tip of one of the scars, in the hollow of the lower part of my breasts, I consider touching it, but my finger stops where it is… since I took off the bandages I have been trying to touch the scar, but something always stops me, the fear, the insecurity, are frightening… After the arrival of my diagnosis, after my decision to have the surgery, I was aware of all the medical observations, double removal and reconstruction, partial loss of sensitivity… fearful, I faced them, but now, standing in front of them, it's more frightening than I thought it would be, and even though I know that a lot has changed, that letting my finger run over the scars won't change anything that hasn't already changed, I put my mind off. actions, I pretend that when I allow myself to touch myself, I will feel everything I once felt...

— Lena — Dona Zefa's voice echoes along with knocks against the wooden door of my room, I abruptly close the robe. The door is locked, yet it feels strange to be called when I'm in such a… mine, intimate, vulnerable moment.

— Yes? — I grumble heading to the door, opening it the instant I stopped in front of it.

—I'm sorry to bother you, dear, but I came to let you know that breakfast is served.— She informed with a half smile, I shook my head in denial, then smiled at her.

— You are never a nuisance, Dona Zefa! — My hand found hers, so I squeezed it affectionately, keeping the tender look she offered me. Dona Zefa was a lady with darker skin than mine, short hair partly grayish, short, chubby, middle—aged, she was adorable in her appearance and presence, and she had helped my mother with the house since I can remember. , she was no doubt already part of the Alpes Garcia family.

—If Lena said so, it's covered!— Her smile widened, and her hand stroked mine. I sighed still with a half smile.

— I'm just going to change, so I'll go down to eat those delicacies that only you know how to make. I blinked in her direction. Not one to handle compliments well, she laughed awkwardly, thus shaking her head in denial.

—Let your mother hear you say that.— She grumbled allowing herself to laugh, I followed her.

— Talking what? Did I say something? I don't remember! — I staged a misunderstood expression, the lady laughed.

—What do I do with you girl?— He snorted in mock reprimand, smiled, then kissed her cheek.

—Keep spoiling me with that goddamn coconut cake of yours…— I fluttered my eyelashes frantically.

—What do you think is waiting for you down there?— She arched her eyebrow, laughed, then started to walk away in slow steps, smiled, shaking her head in negative. There were moments when everything looked the same, when I was the same… I tried to enjoy them, I tried to find myself in them.

♥♥♥

I chose to dress myself in one of my countless loose dresses, the one I chose in question was white with flowers, it had a discreet boat neckline, it ended a hand before the knees and its sleeves were very short, barely covering the shoulders. I liked it before, and I liked it a little more now… It was one of the few pieces that made me more comfortable. I sighed, sat on my bed, where I put on my pair of dark beige ankle boots. Living in a rural area like Recanto, wearing a pair of boots was practically a law, in addition to facilitating long walks through dirt streets and spaces full of weeds, it was good for any eventuality of the appearance of animals or similar things.

I pick up my cell phone from the bedside table, look at its screen, checking the time, the same eight ten am mark, which means I slept a little longer than usual. Since I returned to the farm, I have been trying to change my routine or at least go back to what it was before my move… in addition to the medical recommendation, I could not act as if I were in the big city, where it allowed me to wake up at almost eleven, after spending the whole night working hard. with my face buried in college books. I shake my head from side to side, pushing any thoughts that take me to the not—so—distant past, I have to focus on the now, I have to focus on what I'm going to do from here, not what was abruptly cut off, what I chose to leave behind. behind…

Composing myself by practicing a neutral expression, I leave my room, following the long corridor in slow steps.

— I already said that I will not sell even a third of these lands, of my lands! — My father's fierce voice suddenly sounds, which makes me stop abruptly, only now noticing that I pass in front of the closed door of his office, my lips purse, I consider entering the room, asking what is going on, after all, it is It's rare to hear my father use such a tone, in addition to being naturally calm, excited as he was at that moment, it went against his medical recommendations after a mini heart attack last month... I raise my hand over the wood, but I don't knock when another voice sounds , she is familiar.

— Do you understand what I'm saying, Seu Adalberto? Do you understand that this is the only solution? — I identify the owner of the hoarse voice, it's Gael, Dad's young lawyer. I swallow hard, knowing something serious is going on.

I know it's wrong to be standing in front of the door like this, especially the door to my parent's workplace, but instead of walking away, I move closer, letting my ear press against the door.

— Don't give me that same story, Gael! If your father were alive, he would bring me a solution that wouldn't let go of something as precious as my lands! — My father's harsh tone, totally devoid of empathy makes me shiver... Gael's father had died a few months ago, victim of a tragic accident, not wanting to leave any of his father's clients in the lurch, Gael took over a good part of the father's jobs, including business counseling for mine, which brought them at that moment. But among all the drama of the situation, what confuses me the most is the possibility of selling a part of Alpes Garcia… what's going on? Why does Gael insist on this issue? I press my ear a little closer there.

— I've spent sleepless nights, I've done countless studies about your situation Adalberto, and the only solution I've seen is this, if you don't do it, you'll soon have to declare bankruptcy! he exclaimed in a tone as haughty as my father's. Bankruptcy? I blinked a few times. We were going bankrupt, was that it? —I'm not saying sell everything, maybe…

— If you insist on that idea, I'll fire you, Gael, I'm warning you… not even the fact that you're the son of a great friend of mine will stop me!

—Helena, what are you doing?— My mother's reproachful voice sounded, making me turn towards her with a half smile, I looked at the tray she had in her hands, on it there were cups and the coffee bottle — After growing up I will have to teach her not to Do you hear conversations behind the door? I bit my bottom lip, embarrassed, then let our gazes hold.

[♥♥♥]

HELENA

—No, I was just passing by...—

— Passing? With your ear pressed to the door? He looked at me with an arched eyebrow, I bit my lower lip.

—Is Dad in trouble?— I questioned, ignoring my lack of manners, something in my mother's face changed… she looked more worried than angry.

— Problems? Where did you get that, girl? — A clearly forced laugh escaped between his lips — Go have your coffee, we need to go to São Paulo a little before lunch for your appointment. — She pointed in the direction I had been going for a few minutes, I considered insisting on the subject, but I backtracked on the idea, she looked so tired. Feeling guilty, because I knew this was the result of all her dedication to me, I sighed and just nodded. I saw her knock on the door I was leaning against, seconds later she entered, and I, even dying of curiosity, headed towards the pantry.

♥♥♥

As soon as I touch the generous slice of cake that Dona Zefa insi